Wings of Justice
by kyuuketsuneko
Summary: What happens if a Shirou with a darker past than the one we're all used to shows up in Shin Tokyo? And is he really there at the wrong place at the wrong time? Who will be winged in this world? (Rated M to be safe for later chapters). Warning: Fujimura Taiga (i.e. Freeloader-sensei) will suffer thoroughly. In flashbacks at least.
1. 00 Prologue

**Title**: Wings of Justice (subject to change because I suck at titles).

**Fandoms:** Fate/Stay Night & Sekirei.

**Warning:** This Shirou will be very different from most Shirous in fanfics, and vastly different from the canon Shirou for reasons to be revealed soon~

If you hate non-canon Shirous, leave now, and forever hold your peace! If you flame me for your personal tastes I'll…! I'll…! Er. Go all female-Gilgamesh on you!

(Oh yes I'm so convincing aren't I? =w=").

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own FSN or Sekirei or Homura would have stayed male and disturbing guro-BL would have ensued for kicks XD.

(_You're scaring away your readers…_).

Anyway, ON WITH THE SHOW!

* * *

**Prologue**

In several of many worlds, the hero-in-progress Emiya Shirou would be held up at an airport due to experimental MBI technology, and run into #04, Karasuba. In others, the Executor Kotomine Shirou would appear in Shin Tokyo, purging the Dead – more for pleasure than any kind of justice – and run into Homura. But in this world, the boy born of fire would not have his first encounter with Sekirei in either of these ways.

No, this Emiya Shirou is different from the majority of Shirous across the many worlds and universes.

This Shirou is no pyromanic.

This Shirou is no an ally of justice.

This Emiya Shirou is, without a doubt, JUSTICE.

Yes, you read that right, he is NOT an ALLY of justice, he IS justice itself.

The story of how this came to be will be told another day, for now, our (anti-)hero, or rather, self-righteous-justice-maniac, has a bit of a situation on his hands.

Wait, let me correct myself: situations.

Namely cabbages. And an empty wallet. And also another little problem.

"… Sir*?"

His eyebrow twitches.

The girl, probably around the same age as the white-haired youth, stared expectantly at him.

"Ah. Yes. Won't be a sec."

Raising an eyebrow, the doe-eyed girl would only feel a brief gust of wind (inside a supermarket no less) before being handed a handful of cash. It took all of her self-control not to gape and say "huh?".

"Here you go."

His sharp, angular features softened, and a pleasant smile adorned the tanned youth's face.

A blush rose on the girl's cheek. _How eroti-I mean exotic-looking!_

She counted the money carefully, and then handed him his change. Her fingers lingered a moment more than they needed to. Just a moment, but both of them noticed. He didn't show it though. He had more things to worry about than a love-struck girl.

"Thanks."

"Thank you for shopping here, sir. Please come again."

Giving a small bow, the girl handed him his plastic bag, filled with vegetables. Or rather, one type of vegetable. It was chock-full of cabbages.

What was he going to make with that many cabbages anyway?

Nevertheless, Emiya Shirou left the supermarket feeling a bit… apprehensive.

It wasn't the first time that someone had been excessively polite to him (especially given that the girl who had just bowed to him was now growling at the next customer's inability to remember their PIN), nor was it the first time that a woman had stared at him with intentions that looked far from pure, but it was certainly the first time that he had to stand with his back facing something reeking of blood and steel for that long.

Glancing over at the counter, as he leaned against a pillar, he observed the woman giving off the dangerous smell. If he didn't know better, he would've swore she was related to the Matou girl – Sakura. Both had purple hair, innocent-looking features, and held themselves with the grace of a classical yamato nadeshiko** - a mask no doubt, but a convincing one, concealing what was definitely monster within. Unfortunately, the shared feature that drew most of his attention was… was…

_That bustline._

No yamato nadeshiko should have a cup-size that large! It's against every Japanese custom that every existed! Kimonos were made for the flat-chested!

Well, according to Ayako, at least.

_Though,_ Shirou noted ironically, _she was hardly a washboard_ _herself_.

Nevertheless this woman managed to pull off the busty-kimono look as if it was only natural. Then again, she made purple hair and red eyes look natural. And-

_Wait a minute, _red_ eyes? Could she be a Dead Apostle?_

She certainly smelt of enough blood to be one, but, lacking the scent of a corpse, Shirou didn't feel that this conjecture was right. But she was definitely not human.

_Hm… could she be a new Type?_

Worry began gnaw at his heart, which sank when he realised she had spotted him staring.

_Great._ _Just great._

Shirou considered escaping from the shopping mall before the woman/monster/alien finished paying for her groceries, but his instincts told him to stay, and, given that she was trying as hard as she was to blend into human society, he would probably be more likely to survive in a public area than in some back alley. Taking a deep breath, he prepared himself for the worst.

"Ara, was there something on my face?"

Unexpectedly, no death threats or warnings to 'keep silent or else' were shot towards him. Instead, a gentle, feminine voice appeared from in front of him.

Which in itself was disturbing, since he hadn't sensed her presence – her smell was also a poor indicator of location, since it was pretty much stinking up the whole mall, and he had had his eyes closed for a moment.

"Er. No, sorry for staring."

She tilted her head, her eyes asking '_then why were you staring at me?_'.

"Ah."

"Hmm?"

"Well," he rubbed the back of his head, feigning embarrassment, "purple hair isn't something you see everyday, and a friend of mine," _ha, a thick-faced lie right there – how could a _Matou_ ever be my _friend_?_ "happens to have purple hair, so I thought you might've been her for a minute."

"Ara? But you were staring at me for more than just 'a minute' though, and," a mischievous grin lights up on her face, an expression that he had never seen on the Matou girl's face, "that's a poor excuse to hit on a married woman!"

If it wasn't for his training for maintaining a poker-face, he would have started frothing the mouth.

"Married?!"

Alas, no amount training could stop his mouth before it said something stupid it seems. Damn mouth.

"… yes? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No, nononono! Of course not! I was just surprised, since you seem so young!"

"Ara, but I've seen women marry younger?"

_So have I, but they weren't nuclear-warhead-level-powered inhuman beings_.

"Ah. That's true."

"But I'm flattered you think I look young – but," she pouted, almost cutely, "you should really stop trying to flirt with me."

"Ah," unable to conceal his blush any longer, Shirou reverted to behaviour more fitting of his age – namely, embarrassed panicking, "I really wasn't! I really do know a girl who looks like you!"

_Okay, now it's starting to sound desperately pathetic, even to me_.

She arched an eyebrow. Sighing somewhat… maternally,

"Ma, we'll go with that lie then."

"But it's not a lie!"

_Really, how many years has it been since I've acted so childishly?!_

She giggled slightly. "That aside, my name is Asama Miya. It's nice to meet you, Mr.-?"

Swallowing his embarrassment, Shirou replied: "Emiya. Emiya Shirou."

"Well then, Emiya-kun, it was amusing talking to you, but I must be going now."

"Ah, indeed, I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time, Asama-san."

"It's not a problem," waving slightly with the hand carrying only two bags of groceries (appropriate, since the other carried three), the purple-haired, kimono-glad creature departed.

Once he was sure she was out of earshot, Shirou breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was interesting."

_At least I confirmed she doesn't appear to have any significantly hostile intentions to humans, and either she is unable to detect or also has no ill intentions towards magi. Regardless, she is not an immediate danger_.

Nodding slightly to himself, Shirou set off.

And stopped about three steps later.

_I forgot to book accommodations_.

And the mission was going so smoothly too.

* * *

* = she doesn't really call him "sir", but "okyaku-sama", which is how normal, polite salespeople would talk to their customers, but there isn't really an appropriate equivalent in English to show how polite she's being, so meh.

** yamato nadeshiko = the 'ideal' Japanese woman i.e. a demure, homely yes-woman.

* * *

**A/N:** Er… I'm not sure what the proper way to go about this is, but I extend my thanks to writers such as **gabriel blessing**, **SatireSwift** and **many others** who have written (and/or are currently writing) superb F/SNxSekirei fics. You've all been hugely inspirational ^u^


	2. 01 Enter, Sekirei

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own FSN or Sekirei.

* * *

**Chapter 01: Enter, Sekirei**

Izumo Inn.

Despite this being my first time to Shin Tokyo, I found myself being filled with a sense of nostalgia. The classical Japanese-styled building resembled my old home in Fuyuki – not so much that it was too similar for comfort, but similar enough to make me feel right at home.

I pressed the doorbell.

The door slid open.

"Yes?"

And I almost traced Kanshou and Bakuya in my surprise.

_(E-ranked luck strikes again!)_

"Ara, if it isn't Emiya-kun! Stalking a married woman to her home! What a ruffian you are!"

"Ah no, I was looking for a place to stay-"

"And to ravish me when I let my guard down!" she cried, hands gripping the broom she was holding tighter in comically faked fear.

"Asama-san-"

"Ah, what will my husband in heaven think!"

"Wait, you're a widow?"

"… ara, so the ruffian wasn't here to take advantage of this lonely, vulnerable widow?"

My eyebrows raised by themselves.

_What part of you is VULNERABLE? I would have better luck bringing down a Root-blimin' FORTRESS than you!_

"As I was saying, I'm looking for a place to-"

"Violate my maiden heart?!"

"… A-sa-ma-sa-nnnnn-!"

Her name came out more as a feral growl – I was starting to get a bit annoyed, it seems.

She sighed, dropping her head a little with the motion, then lifted it back up with a gentle smile.

"I see you don't take well to teasing, Emiya-kun."

"Not when I'm trying to find a place to stay with heavy luggage."

I gestured behind me. I barely made it in time to check out at the hotel… I tried extending my stay, but they were booked out, so I rushed to the nearest net café to search for a place to stay… all while dragging my luggage with me. Really, today has just been _great_.

"Really, how could I turn you down? This is an inn after all! You're welcome to stay here as long as you follow the rules!"

"Rules?"

"Oh, the norm – pay your bills, refrain from disturbing your neighbours," she said, as she turned and began to walk – I suppose she expected me to follow, so I did.

"And no lewd actions."

I almost tripped on a floorboard that wasn't even sticking out.

"Ara? Is that too difficult for you?"

"Er. No. It's just that I've never heard of that rule in any of the other places I've stayed at."

"Oh? I suppose they weren't very respectable establishments then!"

I sighed. No need to tell her that I was staying in the equivalent of dorms at the Clocktower. The number of mages that would have an aneurism knowing that they were being insulted by this new Type (yes, I've decided to consider her a new Type).

"Well, this is your room, Emiya-kun."

She didn't bother to hand me a key – there weren't really any locks on the doors anyway, but it wasn't a problem. After all, it wasn't something a simple bounded field couldn't stop, and, after a month of painful lessons with… with… with…

I must have broken out in cold sweat at the memory, because Asama suddenly turned and asked me if I was alright.

"Oh yes, I'm fine. Carrying my luggage for so long just got me."

"Hm."

She didn't look convinced. I couldn't blame her. She handed me a small, white folder with "RULES AND INFORMATION: RETURN ONCE YOU'RE DONE READING" scrawled on it in red marker.

Hm. Surprisingly tacky for this modern yamato nadeshiko.

I resisted the urge to frown as I considered my last thought again.

Maybe I should stop judging by appearances?*1

"Well, enjoy your stay at Izumo Inn. Call me if you need help or anything."

"I will. Thank you, Asama-san."

"Miya's fine," she stated with surprising firmness, "that's what all the other tenants call me."

"Then please call me Shirou, Miya-san."

"Then, I'll be seeing you at dinner, Shirou-kun."

* * *

I sighed. Unpacking the first few bags took much longer than expected. I glance up at the clock. Almost time for dinner – it's a good thing that I remembered to find out when dinner was before I started unpacking or I might've missed it.

Noting my slightly sweating status, I decided to get changed – I'd definitely have to take a proper bath or shower later, but for now, I'll have to make do with another shirt. Opening up bag number 4, I fished around for my trademark red-sleeved top*2.

Just as I took off my sweat-stained shirt, the door to my room opened.

"Ah," we both gasped, not quite comprehending what to say.

"AHHHHHH!" I screamed.

_Oh Root, that was such a girly scream. I never knew I could scream like that. And I wasn't even caught with my pants down or anything. _

"I'M SORRY!" the busty female screeched, slamming the shouji*3 shut.*4

After I finished changing, the brown-haired woman reopened the door, looking ever so slightly sheepish.

"So."

"Ah. I'm sorry. I really am."

"Oh, it's fine. But what were you doing, bursting into someone else's room like that?"

"Well… this room hasn't been occupied in a while, so sometimes I come here when I don't want to be found. Not until dinner at least."

"Found? By who?"

"U-ZU-ME-SAN!"

Miya's voice came like Gae Bolg. Through the heart of its target, that is.

The woman, presumably Uzume, went pale, and slowly turned around to face-

_Wait, what IS that?!_

A hannya mask of some sort appeared along with Miya – was it some kind of illusion magic? A reality marble? Or was it some secret ability that came with her kind?

_Either way…._

… _I simply MUST learn it! All the things I could-_

"Miya-saaaaaaaaaaannnnnn~" wailed Uzume, interrupting my thoughts as she crumpled to the floor under the pressure of the Hannya-mask.

"Uzume-chan."

There was no humour in her voice, a stark contrast to her earlier, friendly attitude.

Was it because the two of them of them were the same kind?

_Ah._

I blinked. The same kind.

Indeed, both of them had the weak scent of… a bird.

… _Wagtail_.

I have no idea how someone, or rather 'something', can 'smell like a wagtail', but nonetheless, that was the feeling I got. And besides, it wasn't really a smell as much as it was a interpretation of magic translated to information from one of the five senses. My nose wasn't just good for trouble after all.

I didn't really notice it when I met Miya, because the smell of blood and steel crushed all else (and boy did my nose hurt until I got used to it), but this Uzume clearly smelt of the bird. And some kind of fabric. It reminded me of a mix between the smell of bedsheets and silk. But that was beside the point.

"I'LL PAY YOU SOOOOON! GIVE ME MORE TIME! SPAREEEE MEEE!"

With lines that would be more apt coming from a victim of loan shark extortions, Uzume clawed at the tatami as Miya picked her legs up and dragged her like a lump of meat, desperate to get away from the landlady (oh yes, it seems that this new Type could buy property quite happily – a fact I discovered from reading the white folder I was handed earlier).

"U. Zu. Me. Chan."

_Okay, now this is getting ridiculous_.

Even I was starting to get goosebumps from her voice… and I've faced Dead Apostles and Servants before!

"Er… Miya-san?"

"Yes, Shirou-kun?"

"Do you mind," I was about to say 'talking this through with Uzume-san', but decided against it for the sake of my health, "taking this to another room?"

She paused, and put the index finger of her free hand up to her lips as if in thought.

"I suppose I'll deal with you after dinner."

And that was that.

* * *

Dawn-pink light streamed into the inn. Birds and cicadas chirped in an orchestra of tweets and buzzes. The lack of human presence in this building was interrupted by –

"No, yes. Well, if _those things_ are what I think are the cause of – oh for the love of-! Careeeeeenn!" I whined into the phone as I tried to ignore the priestess's taunting.

Really, what a pain this job turned out to be.

For once, the Clocktower and Church set aside their differences (or rather, have chosen to ignore each other's presence in the upcoming conflict) to investigate exactly what is going on in Shin Tokyo.

According to a number of sources, ranging from independent Magus Killers to Atlas, there was recently a huge prana spike in the area, and I (along with a number of others) had been sent to investigate. For the record, I managed to secure a contract both with the Clocktower _and_ with the Church, so I should be able to make a reasonable sum this time.

Speaking of finances, who knew being a bringer of justice would be such a costly affair?

My sporadic missions in different parts of the world never gave me enough time to set down my roots anywhere, so I lacked local networks and influences to get the information I needed and to bail me out of jail (should I require it). For the most part, I had to, much to my chagrin, rely on bribery and blackmail to get my way. Truly, it makes one wonder what the world has come to when someone trying to purge the evil in this world has to sully their own hands in evil.

Naturally, once all other 'evils' have been dealt with, I too shall not be exempt from my crusade. But I'll worry about that later.

For now, I have to confirm whether these 'Wagtails' are responsible for the prana spike or not, where they came from, acquire a (live) sample if possible (at the request of the Clocktower), and to destroy the rest (as per the request of the Church).

Locking my phone before connecting it to its charger, I ambled my way to the kitchen. Cooking was always my not-so-secret stress-reliever, and it had been a while since I had the option of cooking in such a well-equipped kitchen.

As I opened the fridge, my face cracked into a grin.

_Well, my day just got a whole lot better_.

* * *

"Bro, this has got to be the best day of my life!" cried and overenthusiastic Uzume.

"Indeed. This is quite exquisite. Would you mind giving me a few pointers on how you enriched the taste of the miso soup so much? I always assumed that miso soup tasted the same regardless of who made it!" exclaimed an equally impressed landlady.

"Of course, Asa – er… Miya-san."

She smiled before clapping her hands together.

"I wonder if I should bring some to Homura-kun~"

"Homura-kun?"

"Oh yes, he's another one of my tenants here."

"Mhm," added Uzume. "He's works at a host club, so he usually sleeps through the day. 's a shame missing prepaid meals, dontcha think?"

"Well, I certainly don't mind – if nothing else, it helps me cut down the food budget and since _someone_ doesn't pay her rent…" Miya trailed off in an ominous tone.

"Ehehehe… I'll scrape something together by the end of this week – really, I will!"

"I believe you said that a month ago, Uzume-chan, and I have yet to see an ounce of rent paid…"

Quirking an eyebrow, I asked "well, why not evict her?"

"NOOO, BRO! DON'T GIVE HER ANY IDEASSSSS!" howled the involved woman. Alien. Bird-thing.

Miya giggled before smiling at her two tenants.

"I wouldn't kick her out. It's against the policies of Izumo Inn to kick out anyone who needs to be here after all. My husband would not approve."

_Her husband, huh? She seems to think about him an awful lot. Perhaps I'll start my investigations there…_

"Anyway, since you're not paying rent, I'll have you work off your debt, Uzume-chan. To start off, let's have you bring Homura breakfast."

Uzume opened her mouth, presumably to refuse, but quickly closed it again as black tendrils began to creep out from behind Miya, who, while smiling, looked much more ominous than even a Dead Apostle.

"Freeloading at Izumo Inn is… PROHIBITED."

"Eek-! P-please cut it out! I-I'm going-! Ri-right now!"

Grabbing a tray with a serving of every item, Uzume dashed out of the room. I decided to take this as an opportunity to ask the landlady a few more questions.

"Miya-san, apart from Uzume-san, Homura-san and myself, are there any other tenants here?"

"Sadly, no."

_Hm. Her expression didn't change at all when she said that. This will be troublesome._

"Really? Strange…"

A flash of worry flitted across the purple-head's face.

"What do you mean?"

"I swore I heard another voice last night… perhaps Uzume had a guest over?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps? I thought you were talking to the guest as well?"

She frowned slightly.

"Eavesdropping in Izumo Inn is… PROHIBITED!"

I smirk. Her frown blossomed into a fully-developed one.

"You made me do that on purpose."

"No, not really. It was an added bonus though."

She sighed.

"Really, what am I going to do with you?"

"Let me stay here as any self-respecting landlady would?"

"You've got quite a cheek don't you?" she snorted (well, it was probably as close to a snort as she would ever get).

"Hehe, it comes with practise."

* * *

_Asama Miya. Scent: steel and blood._

_Uzume. Scent: bedsheets and silk._

_The unknown Wagtail living in a hidden room. Scent: electricity and burning rubber._

_Homura. Scent: smoke and fire._

Reviewing the list of Wagtails in my head, I sighed. So far, I have already encountered four of these creatures, and have yet to find anything useful about them. Forget seeing what kind of powers they have, if it wasn't for my ability to 'smell' prana, I wouldn't have even noticed that these creatures were 'not-human'! The only thing I have yet to conclude was that apart from Miya, who had been married to (presumably) an Asama in the past, not a single one of these creatures have a surname of any kind, a trait to look out for during my investigations.

_Help me._

The soft cry (was it real, or did I imagine it?) interrupted my thoughts. Looking around wildly, my vision soon settled on yet another one of these creatures.

A busty woman with short, reddish-brown hair sat on the park bench. Or rather, instead of 'sitting', t felt like she had simply 'collapsed' there onto the bench as soon as she could. Wearing nothing more than a shirt and a labcoat, most passer-bys avoided looking at her, let along walking anywhere near her.

And, as twisted as it may seem, I smiled.

_Perfect_.

"Hello there, do you need help?" I ask, voice laced with falsified compassion.

"…?"

"Do you need me to call someone for you?"

"… someone…?"

Outwardly, I sigh, but I grin a little inside.

"Do you want me to call the police?"

"… no… police…"

_Hm… well, if nothing else, at least she knows that getting other authorities involved isn't good for her_.

"Well, would you like to have something else to where at least? You can't walk around in public dressed like that."

"…?"

I sigh, genuinely this time.

"Come with me. Let's get you into something to eat and some clothes to wear, okay?"

She nodded slowly, as if she was in a trance.

Hand clinging onto my left sleeve, I wonder what the passer-bys thoughts of us. Probably nothing good – hopefully no one would call the police.

_Ah_.

"Dagaz," I whisper, drawing the appropriate rune into the air.

While it was literally jus the rune for 'day', with the right combination of prana manipulation and focus, it could be made into a subtle command that forced anyone apart from the caster and those physically in contact with the caster to 'get on with their day' and effectively 'forget about intervening with the caster'. A feeble use of runes, but nonetheless effective in reducing the amount of attention we were garnering.

Despite it being only a few hours past dawn, a fair number of people were already in the park, most walking, jogging or practising an Eastern social dance that I decided to dub 'the old people's yoga'. Raiga-jiisama always complained that I had no appreciation for culture (and I suppose he was right). Back then, I simply shrugged him off, saying that I saw no purpose in practising something out-of-date that couldn't be used. When he pointed out that I would never practically apply my kendo and archery skills, I merely smirked in response.

If only he'd known. Ha.

First, I took the busty woman into the nearest woman's clothing store, casting a few more 'dagaz' runes in a pyramidal array to try to amplify their effect as it turned out that she was not particularly good at putting clothes on herself… resulting in my awkward and embarrassed assistance. Then, after acquiring a few somewhat more modest items of clothing (though it seems like this Wagtail had a penchant for chains, chokers and immodesty), we set off to find her some underwear.

Truly, I have never been so exhausted by a shopping trip. To think that shopping for a mere three outfits and an equal number of underwear sets would take just as many hours…

By now, it was a little past eleven, so I decided to take the Sekirei to a nearby café, where I treated her to a coffee, toast and pancakes.

Not once did she speak.

"So."

She looked up at me, eyes expectant.

"Can you tell me your name."

She nodded slowly. "Akitsu."

"Well, I'm Emiya Shirou. Nice to meet you."

She gave me a bit of a blank look. Well, I had expected that.

"I'll get right to the point. What are you? What does your kind call itself?"

"I'm… broken. We're… broken. Scrapped."

"Broken? Scrapped?"

She nodded once, hesitantly.

Realising that I wasn't going to get any more out of her unless I started asking more questions, I scratched my head a little before continuing.

"Well, can you explain a bit more, Akitsu?"

She nodded again.

"See this mark?" she asked, pulling her bangs further to each side to expose the glaring red tattoo on her head. I nod in the affirmative.

"It means I'm broken."

"But what do you mean by broken? In my opinion, you seem perfectly functional."

I almost berated myself for sounding so clinical, but Akitsu didn't seem to mind.

"I can't have an Ashikabi."

"Ashikabi?"

She nodded.

After fifteen more minutes of short-phrase answers, I decided that I wasn't going to get much else from her. It wasn't so much that she was unwilling to talk, but that she didn't know enough to paraphrase her words in a way that I could understand.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" I ask, deciding that this would conclude our conversation.

She shook her head.

"Well, I think you'll be able to stay with me. I'll have to talk to the landlady about it, but I'm sure she'll let you stay – she doesn't seem like the type to turn out someone with nowhere to go."

She cocked her head.

"Anyway, follow me – I'll take you to your temporary home. You can leave anytime you like."

She shook her head again.

"I want… to stay with you."

_Hm. Well, this could be productive in its own way…_

"Well," I beam a friendly smile at her, "that's fine too. Even if you can't have an Ashikabi or whatever, I don't think you're broken at all. So cheer up! If anyone tries to bully you for being 'broken', point them out to me and I promise you they won't ever dare to say that again!" I boast. It was nothing more than hot air of course, but since I had already inadvertently created a bit of an image as a good-natured, somewhat immature but reliable airhead with Miya, I decided that putting up the same image for Akitsu wouldn't do me any harm.

Besides, it was good to act my age for once. I might not look it (with my prematurely whitening hair), but I _am_ only 19 going on 20 after all. I'm fully entitled to having a few bouts of immaturity from time to time!

It was then that she fell from the sky.

I had smelt her (she stank of a musty smell that reminded me of a wild beast and the standard 'wagtail' smell), but I couldn't see her. The ground had shaken. I had searched left, right, forwards, backwards, down and then –

"GET OUT OF THE WAYYY-!" screamed a girl, clad in a scandalous mockery of a miko outfit, as she literally flew down from the sky. I stepped out of the way in time, partially out of reflex and partially because Akitsu had dragged me out of the way. Unfortunately, this meant that said flying girl landed on someone else.

"WARGH!" cried the unfortunate victim.

Black, scruffy hair with a few strands hanging in front of his face. Matching black eyes. A brown fur-lined jacket. All in all, he was a very normal-looking Japanese teenager if it wasn't for the fact that he was probably only a few centimetres shorter than me.

"Er… are you alri-" I began, but was cut off by the screaming of:

"I'M SO SORRY!"

Well, at least she had the manners to apologise.

"BUT PLEASE STAY BACK!"

Did she have to keep screaming at the top of her lungs?

Mirroring Akitsu's earlier actions, she pushed the boy behind herself, fists raised in a defensive pose. Akitsu looked back at me before tugging on my sleeve, her way of telling me that it was getting dangerous. I give her a reassuring smile and shake my head.

No way was I going to miss what happens next.

As if on cue, a pair of Wagtails soon joined the scene. Throwing lightening everywhere, they appeared to have no regard for the safety of the nearby civilians, nor for the fact that their fight was being witnessed by a rather large number of people. If nothing else, whatever the heck was going on was nothing like the Grail War where secrecy was prioritised over winning a fight.

I sigh. There really wasn't anything too impressive to see now that I've learnt all I can from this fight.

The two twins (or at least, they seemed like twins with their matching elements and well-coordinated attacks) smelt of electricity, and they used lightening. The girl from the sky smelt like a wild animal and fought like one, relying more on brute strength and charging than technique or skill. All in all, their smell matched their powers. Furthermore, while the lightening twins appeared to have physical stats above that of a human, they were subpar compared to the wild-girl, indicating that these Wagtails were probably divided into two types – elemental types and physical types.

For some reason, it felt like a cheap rip-off of what a fight between martial artists and magi would look like*5. Really, the skill level was appalling. Then again, I had been spoilt by the visages of Servant-battles, where truly skilled beings battled with everything they had.

Furthermore, from what I gleaned from their bizarre conversation, these Wagtails, apparently called 'Sekirei' needed to be 'winged' by an 'Ashikabi', and presumably this gave a Sekirei the ability to fight better (if the flying-miko girl's complaints of 'this isn't fair!' were anything to go by). I decided to liken it to how Servants like Archer, while possessing a degree of Independent Action, still operated better _with_ than _without_ a Master.

So, the Wagtails were called Sekirei and were like Servants.

Ashikabi were like Masters.

And the wining was like the contract-making process between the two.

Information: duly noted.

"Akitsu."

Said Wagtail looked at me.

"Let's go home."

She nodded.

* * *

Up until then, my day had gone from bad (courtesy of Caren), to better (being praised for my cooking), to interesting (finding Akitsu), to informative (courtesy of the three Sekirei) and finally…

Disastrous.

Here I was, taking Akitsu to the bus station so that we could get home quicker when apparently my runes failed me. Either that, or some greater power up there was trolling me.

Regardless, an event that normally is restricted to the fields of yaoi manga occurred.

I tripped (partially caused by Akitsu pulling me backwards in a failed attempt to keep me out of danger, partially by a poorly-secured manhole – NO PUN INTENDED THERE and partially due to my attempts to pull myself away from both dangers on reflex), fell forwards, fell onto someone (male) and in our flurry to try to regain our balance, I ended up still falling on top of him, pinning him down, with our lips locked together.

In public.

At a bus station.

Just as our bus came to the stop.

I had never wanted to disappear into a manhole (STILL NO PUN INTENDED) as much as I did then.

What was worse was that abruptly, the ground beneath him cracked, fissures forming in the shape of wings. It was then that my brain caught up with the events of what happened*6.

One, he was a Sekirei.

Two, he smelt of earth, and the fissures in the ground supported my belief that he was a earth-based elemental Sekirei.

Three, I finally understood why they called the contract-establishment process 'winging'.

Four, I have just caused so many problems that I don't even know what to do.

Brain freezing in horror, it took the efforts of an equally mortified Sekirei for us to disentangle ourselves, muse about how we missed the bus (which took off rapidly without waiting for us to break apart) and for Akitsu to give the Sekirei an Arctic-grade glare.

Truly, this day has been a disaster.

* * *

*1 = did anyone get the jab at Shirou's chauvinistic streak here?

*2 Imagine Shirou's outfit from FSN but with red instead of blue sleeves.

*3 shouji = the Japanese sliding doors you always see in anime.

*4 = to clarify, Uzume didn't scream and apologise because of embarrassment. She screamed because of surprise, and apologised partially because she initially assumed that Shirou was hiding from the landlady as well, and partially because she _does_ know that normal humans have slightly different standards for skinship compared with Sekirei, and she's trying to keep to those standards.

*5 = Reference kind of to what I'd expect from the descriptions by **Fangking2** in their fic **Reflection of the Sky: Shirou! Disciple of Yami!**

*6 = Betcha guys never saw _that_ one comin'! Of all the Sekirei to wing first MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

**Challenge: while it's pretty obvious which Sekirei it is, the first person to get it right will be able to chose which Sekirei gets winged by Shirou next =D!**

Don't fret, this isn't a yaoi fic (despite the fun I could have down that route). But Shirou will doubt his sexuality to his Sekireis horror and my amusement.

And no, I would like to think of myself as NOT being homophobic, but I do have a lot against PDAs. Regardless of the genders of involved parties. Plus just because _I'm_ not homophobic doesn't mean the bus-driver isn't. And I couldn't have Mr. Mysterious Sekirei have 'the talk' with his newfound Ashikabi on a crowded bus, could I now? Code of 'secrecy' (*snorts*) and all. So yes, the bus had to drive off.

Over and out ~


End file.
